Page 16 of Forced Prisoner By the Bratva

I groaned, frustrated by the unnecessary noise that plagued me with a dull headache. Couldn't a girl just sleep in peace in this house anymore?

Mom's voice boomed across the hallway, instructing the maids to make sure everything was in place. “It's my daughter's big day, and I want nothing but perfection.”

My eyes widened at the realization of what day it was, and my heart skipped a beat. “Oh, God!” I grumbled, slapping a pillow against my face, my hand slamming the mattress. “I wish I didn't wake up this morning,” I mumbled, rolling over to the other side of the bed.

The morning sun’s rays streaming through the window were like a slap to my face, mocking my dark mood. I hugged my pillow, squeezing my eyes shut as if trying to force myself back to sleep, but it was no use.

This was it. This was the day my family would offer me as a living sacrifice on an altar to a man I barely knew—a man I'd grown to despise. My heart was beating like a drum, and I gritted my teeth in an attempt to fight and resist the urge to cry.

Crying wouldn't change anything, and frankly speaking, no one would give a shit about my tears. So, why waste them? This day was bound to come sooner or later, but despite all ofmy preparations, I still wasn't ready for it. I'd give anything right now just so this union wouldn't take place. However, I knew better.

Besides, Erik and I had decided on a plan.

I reopened my eyes, squinting them ever so slightly, hoping that he wouldn't double-cross me in the end. I couldn't trust him, but I didn't have a choice. The deal was to stay married for two years before going our separate ways; however, two years was a long time. A lot would happen within that period—good and bad. Was I ready for it?

The more I thought about it, the more my head hurt. Crying over spilled milk was pointless, and there was nothing I could do at this stage to make a difference. I would have to come to terms with my new reality and accept my fate if I wanted to get through this in one piece.

I exhaled sharply and let go of the pillow, throwing off the covers as I swung my legs over the side of the bed. I lowered my head, my face cupped in my palms while my feet dangled in the air.

As I hopped off the bed, I yawned, rubbing my eyes and gliding across the room, my tangled hair framing my face. Mom's voice outside drew closer, her instructions louder and clearer.

The door burst open, and she strolled inside. “Good morning, sweetheart,” she trilled, her head facing the tablet in her hand as she flitted around the room. “I've instructed the staff to set up the—oh, my God, you look like shit!” The slight pause came when she raised her head and finally set eyes on me.

“Well, thanks, Mom.” My lips curled into a plastic smile.

“Are you still sulking about the whole situation? Come off it, darling. It's not as bad as you think.” The words burst out of her in a rush, her voice flat and devoid of emotion.

“That's encouraging,” I whispered to myself, taking my eyes off her.

She let out a sharp exhale and lowered her tablet, her shoulders slumping slightly. Mom stepped closer, a sympathetic smile playing on her lips. “I know this is hard for you,” she began, her tone mild and somewhat soothing. “But trust me, it might not be as bad as you think.” Her palm rested on my cheek, her fingers brushing off the strands of hair that concealed my face.

“What if it is?” I asked, looking into her eyes, hoping to at least hear something to help me carry on.

But what did Mom say? She replied with a question, leaving me hanging and confused.

“What if it isn't?” She shrugged and patted my shoulders, brushing off my distress. “Chop, chop. You don't want to be late for your own wedding, do you?” She smiled at me and rushed out of the room. “That dress isn't going to wear itself.” She pointed to my wedding gown before closing the door behind her.

“Perfect pep talk. Just what I needed.”

The sarcasm in my grumble couldn't be any more glaring.

My gaze drifted to the ivory wedding gown hanging on the dress form nearby. It was a beautiful piece of clothing that cost a fortune, intricately beaded and embroidered. However, all it was to me was a shroud, a symbol of the life I was being forced to lead.

The house was bustling with preparations for the big event, and everyone else was happy—everyone but me. All of this was happening without my input or consent, and that hurt. I was just a pawn in a much larger game.

Ironic how, overnight, I'd become such a big deal, an important tool that my family couldn't do without. For the longest time, all I wanted was attention from those I calledfamily. All I wanted was to matter, to fit in. And now I did. But not in the way that I'd hoped.

This whole situation felt so heavy—less like a dream and more like a weight pressing down on my chest.

I sat at my vanity, staring at my reflection in the mirror. My eyes looked sunken, my skin pale, and I smoothed my hair backward, a soft sigh escaping my lips.

A gentle knock on my door caught my attention, and my eyes drifted to the door's reflection in the mirror. “It's open!”

Liam, dressed in an ash-colored robe, waltzed into the room. His gaze met mine in the mirror. “Morning, sis,” he greeted me, a smile perched on his lips.

“If you're here to give a speech about how my sacrifice is for the greater good, save it,” I said, a hint of warning creeping into my tone.

He chuckled, stepping closer, his feet almost soundless against the floor. “Actually, that's not why I'm here,” Liam said, halting behind me. His lips retained their charming smile.

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